


Avenger Potter

by huntersg1rl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Because I love Fred, Because I love Hedwig, Fred is alive, Harry is powerful but not all-powerful, Hedwig is alive, I don't know what else I need to put here, Kinda, Like, Loki is powerful but wizards are almost able to match him?, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Powerful Harry Potter, Protective Harry Potter, So toodles, Why is Fred alive?, Why is Hedwig alive?, he has power but they have diversity, so it evens out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntersg1rl/pseuds/huntersg1rl
Summary: Loki comes to Earth, seeking to take over. He escapes SHIELD custody and goes to Stark Tower. Harry Potter, who works at the daycare within the building, isn't pleased that someone is threatening 'his' kids.This fic is purely for my own enjoyment, but I hope a few of you find it interesting, too. There's some timeline shifting, too, but it should all make sense within the universe. As of right now, this is more of an idea than a fully functional fic. If you guys like it, I'll do some real editing and outlining and whatnot.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 335
Collections: Waiting for updates





	Avenger Potter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> So, in terms of the timeline changes, the biggest two are Harry and Stark Tower. Harry's timeline is different. He's almost twenty at the start of this, meaning he would have been born in 1992. In terms of Stark Tower, I've just adjusted it to have construction be done a few months earlier. The tower's been up long enough for it to be completely occupied and in-use as a workplace. It also has an in-tower daycare center for employees with young children.
> 
> As I mentioned in the summary, I am only writing something I would want to read. I write purely for my own enjoyment. I haven't had trouble with it before, but to head it off, if you don't like this, don't read it. I'll say now, there may be some flirting, but there will be no slash or romance. Updates will probably be slow because I don't have a complete outline and really only a few scene ideas. But we'll get there eventually, I think.
> 
> This first chapter is short and doesn't have too much substance, because we haven't gotten to the important stuff yet. It also hasn't been edited and, like I said, I don't have an outline, so I may come back and change it up a bit if I have to later.
> 
> I also have another Avengers/Harry Potter crossover idea that I want to write, so that will probably end up getting posted concurrently with this. That'll slow my writing time a little bit. Bare with me and eventually, this will be finished.
> 
> As always, please, let me know your thoughts--what pleased you, what displeased you, what you're interested in, what piqued your curiosity in this fic, where you want to see it go. As much as this is written for myself, sometimes those few comments with suggestions light up my imagination, so they really are helpful.  
> I hope you like it!  
> ~Mav

“Ron, get the door, would you?” Hermione calls from the upstairs bedroom in their new house, tucking a pair of trousers into the dresser. She listens as soft footsteps make their way to the door. Once upon a time, Ron had walked with heavy heels. He was easy to track through the house. The war changed that. They all walk almost silently, now. But they’re also so used to listening for the softest of movements that Hermione doesn’t struggle to keep track of him in the house, when she cares to listen, and sometimes when she doesn’t.

“’Lo, Patterson,” Ron greets the person at the door. Auror Patterson, a somewhat recent graduate, just a few years ahead of Ron in training.

“Hullo, Weasley,” Patterson replies amicably. “Can we come in? We have a few questions for you.”

“’Course.” Ron must gesture them in and through to the sitting room. He’ll walk behind them, if Hermione knows him at all, but she can’t hear him over the Auror’s booming tread. “What’s the case?”

“Missing persons,” Patterson says slowly, like he’s trying to figure out how to break news to Ron. Hermione’s mind whirls as she folds away another shirt. An auror trying to figure out how to break the news of a missing person case to Ron would mean it’s someone they know. Bill, maybe? Or Percy—he’s been somewhat high profile, lately. Fred or George are distinct possibilities, but that’s unlikely anyone would succeed in taking them, since they’re never apart and always carry pranks of questionable legality and high safety risk on their persons.

“Who’s missing? My dad? Percy? Bill? Can’t be Fred or George, they’d just blow the bloke up before getting nabbed.”

“Weasley,” Patterson sighs, “it’s Potter. He hasn’t been heard from in almost three months now.”

The world around Hermione seems to freeze for a minute. She sits slowly on the bed, then presses her face into a shirt and starts to shake.

“Harry? Why do you think Harry’s missing?”

“I just said—no one’s heard from him in three months.”

“But ‘Mione and I get a letter from him every day.”

Patterson sputters at that. Hermione shakes harder, trying not to let her laughter become audible. Though, her version of audible and Patterson’s are likely vastly different.

“You. You get letters from Potter every day.”

“Yeah, mate, every day. They’re all signed with special codes, so we know they’re not from an imposter. And we have extra codes for if he’s being forced to write the letters. He’s never included a single one.”

“So. Potter’s fine.”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just on vacation.”

“I see.”

“Say, Patterson, you did come to see me first, right?” There’s a long, telling pause, then Ron sighs. “Patterson, who did you go to first? I was his roommate. ‘Mione and I are his best friends. Who else could possibly have the best idea of where he could be?”

“We… well, we’ve been asking everyone, really. Canvasing.”

“Canvasing. I see. Well, Patterson, I’m actually really pleased to be able to say this: I’m glad I’m not the one who has to admit to starting a missing person investigation over a vacation.”

“He’s really on vacation?”

“Yeah, thought he’d earned some downtime after the last few years.”

Oh, and Harry had. He absolutely had. Anyone who said differently would be meeting Hermione in court for slander and libel. Because Harry had defeated Voldemort and then spent the next two or so years hunting down and bringing in rogue Death Eaters while simultaneously getting his NEWTs and starting up a charity to support orphans of the war. Not to mention always making time to visit Teddy and give Andromeda some time to herself.

“Of course, of course. Well, thank you for clearing that up. I’ll just get out of your hair, then. See you on Monday.”

“See you, Patterson.”

The door clicks closed and Hermione lets loose as Ron thunders up the stairs with abandon. He collapses next to her on the bed, rolling and sniggering, face red from laughing so hard.

“Oh, Merlin, ‘Mione, you should’ve seen his face. He… Oh, he just—” Ron chokes off into another bout of laughter. Hermione joins him.

“Show me in the pensieve later,” she manages to get out before they lose it completely for the next few minutes.

Once they have their breath back, Ron rolls to face Hermione, “so, how long do you think we can get away with claiming he’s ‘on vacation’ before someone notices he’s _always_ on vacation.”

“We’re going to get away with it for as long as we can because if anyone in Britain finds out their _Savior_ ,” she sneers out the word, “has moved to the States, there’ll be riots in the streets and we’ll be crucified for letting him go.”

“So. Six more months?”

“Try three.”

“Got another lie brewing?”

“Goat herding in Norway?”

“You know what’s horrifying?”

“What?”

“I could totally see him doing that.”

Hermione sighs, “I really wish I didn’t agree with you.”

“’But Ron, the poor goats! Someone’s got to help them!’” Ron’s voice is appallingly too high-pitched to be a decent imitation of Harry, but Hermione gets the point anyway.

“’You always want to save the creatures, ‘Mione! I just want to save the goats! I thought you of all people would understand! Charlie would get me!’”

There’s a few more minutes of raucous laughter, before they settle down once more.

“Did the letter arrive yet?”

“Just before Patterson.”

“Well, let’s read it.”

Hermione skims it quickly, then passes it over and puts her face in her hands.

“At least he’s got a job now,” Ron tries. “We always did say he’d make a good teacher.” There’s a long pause, then, “okay, but this is a totally Harry thing to do. And he seems happy.”

“He’s working in a daycare, Ronald,” Hermione sighs, “all that magical power, all those high scores on his NEWTs, all that training, and he’s a teacher in a daycare.” She sighs and leans her head on Ron’s shoulder. “But you’re right. This is totally Harry. And he is happy. Of course, he would want to do something with children, after his childhood. He’ll be a wonderful teacher for them.”

Ron smiles against her hair and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “We’ll go visit in a few more months, before the vultures figure it out. We can pop in at his work to say hi, see him with the kids. He was always good with Teddy and Victoire.”

“He was, wasn’t he?”

“But really, what will the next lie be? Because I can’t see the press buying the goat herding thing, even if we can.”

* * *

“Mr. Black, Mr. Black!” Two-year-old Lila yanks on Harry’s pant leg insistently.

“Just a moment, Lila, I need to get this last pin in, okay?” She settles for a moment and Harry takes the opportunity to finish tacking up the last of the art projects from last week. “Now,” he kneels in front of her. “What did you need?”

“Potty,” she says succinctly. Harry calmly lifts her up and carries her to the bathroom across the room. When washing her hands, she gets more water on her shirt than in the sink, but isn’t too bothered by it. She returns to playing without a fuss.

Harry works in the ‘under three’ area. All the kids in this room are between fifteen months and three years. Any younger, and they’re in the infant room. Any older, and they’re in the preschool room, with a certified teacher.

The littlest in the room, a fifteen-month-old who just moved up from the infant room, sometimes gives Harry pause. He has brown, messy hair and when he’s asleep, Harry looks at him and wonders if that’s what he looked like as a baby. Did he behave like any of these kids? Did he giggle when someone picked him up and fall asleep without crying every day? Or was he a troublesome child, never wanting to be put down and fussing at bed time?

Too bad anyone who could answer those questions is long dead.

“Harry,” Margaret, the other helper, calls from where she’s settling one of the children in a crib for nap-time. “Could you get Max down? He always goes down easier for you.”

“No problem.” He turns to the group still playing on the mats. Five little children, not counting the one Margaret has already gotten settled. “Okay, luvs, naptime. Who wants up first?”

Max’s little arms shoot up to Harry without question. Harry scoops him up and has him settled in his crib in moments. The next down is the other child still under three years. The older kids—not older by much, but still, older—have little futons to sleep on. They’re cute and Margaret and Harry are able to make getting ready for naps into a game, which makes the kids a lot more amicable.

The half-hour of naptime gives Harry and Margaret some much-needed downtime to recharge for the rest of the day. In Harry’s opinion, the day finishes up very quickly after nap-time, even if it does require a lot of energy to keep up with the kids once they wake up.

Eventually, only Max is left in the room with Harry. Margaret has her own kids and Harry doesn’t mind to stay a little while longer. He doesn’t exactly have anyone waiting for him at home, unless you include Hedwig. But she can catch her own food. Max is relatively easy to keep occupied for about a half hour, but then he realizes that his mommy is late and he is decidedly not happy about that.

“Hey, luv, don’t cry, come on,” Harry scoops him up, “we’ll go check at Mummy’s desk, okay? Maybe she’s up there.”

Max sniffles and nods against Harry’s neck, then turns and stares around them with interest as they walk. _Please be at the desk_ , Harry thinks, not sure how he’ll console Max if she isn’t there.

She isn’t there.

Harry curses silently.

“Mama,” Max points at the desk, recognizing the pictures.

“Yeah, Max, this is her desk.” He glances down at the planner and sees that she had been in a meeting. It probably ran long. “She’s talking to some people right now, but she’ll be done soon.”

“Ta’kin’?”

“Yep,” Harry pops the ‘p’ in the way that makes Max giggle. “Talking.”

“Wait?”

“Wait here? Okay.”

They sit and entertain themselves by looking at the pictures. Harry asks Max about each one and Max proceeds to weave an entirely made-up story mostly in baby-talk that Harry can’t understand about them. It eats up a decent amount of time.

“I didn’t know it was bring-your-kid-to-work day.” Harry looks up to see Tony Stark watching him with Max. He stands quickly.

“It’s not, I’m from the daycare downstairs,” Harry explains quickly. “Max’s mum’s meeting ran long and Max was getting fussy that she wasn’t back, so we came up here to wait for her. I know it’s not really allowed—”

Tony waves a hand to cut him off, “it’s after hours. As long as he doesn’t get hurt or break anything important, I don’t care. Pepper might say I should, but I don’t.”

Harry grins, relieved, “great, thank you.” Then, he pokes Max gently in the cheek and points to Tony, “can you say, ‘hi’, to Mr. Stark?”

“Hi,” Max waves. He then reaches for the other man as if Tony would hold him.

“Oh, no, no, Max,” Harry scoops him back gently from where he was grasping at empty air, “Mr. Stark is very busy and has to go do work somewhere else, so he can’t hold you right now. Maybe another day.”

“’Noder day?”

“Another day,” Harry nods sharply. Max accepts this calmly.

“Bye, Max,” Tony waves to the little boy. “Goodbye, Bedhead.”

When Tony is gone, Harry mutters, “I have a name.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Harry,” Max’s mom arrives and sweeps him out of Harry’s arms.

“It was no trouble. Was your meeting alright?”

“We got there eventually, but it was slow-moving.”

“Well, I hope the rest of your evening is better. Have a good night,” Harry finger waves at Max, “bye, Max. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye-bye!”

The next morning, Harry wakes up with his magic humming beneath his skin, like something important has happened and it wants him to know it.

Staring into his mirror, he murmurs, “this is either a very, very good sign, or a very, very bad sign.” And he proceeds to pray on his magic that the Potter Luck doesn’t kick in and make it the latter option.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, since this is stuff that always bothers me, I have tried to make Max as accurate as possible for his age-group. Children aged five and under are liable to have a 'baby lisp', where there are letters they cannot yet pronounce. However, by Max's age, he would be able to understand what Harry is saying and attempt to repeat back some of it. Words he uses often would also be relatively clear, as well. If anyone is wondering, my mom, who is an early-childhood special education teacher, gave me this information, then added that "a five year old may still have the 'baby lisp', but by that age they'd be in speech therapy."
> 
> If you can't tell, this is a massive pet-peeve for me. Six, seven, and eight year olds should not have a lisp, and if they do, they should be receiving services through their school to address the issue. People who write kids aged four and up sounding like toddlers (and even three year olds, really. they can hold solid conversations, you know) really irk me. So I'll always try and make my child characters as true-to-age as possible (for the average of that age). I have a one-year-old cousin (her birthday was just a few weeks back), so I've based Max generally on her, then given him a few more words, and a bit better understanding of what people are saying.


End file.
